


Blessed Assurance

by Frankie_Winchester



Series: The Secret Life of Frankie [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Explicit Language, Frankie Pearce, Hymns, Religion, Religious Humor, Scars, Winchester Sister, church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 23:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankie_Winchester/pseuds/Frankie_Winchester
Summary: ~ Part of the Sequel Miniseries to  Two and a Half Winchesters ~Following a startling and game-changing encounter, Frankie and Cas decide to go to church!
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Secret Life of Frankie [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073555
Kudos: 1





	Blessed Assurance

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenging story to write, but one I refused to give up on. I hope y'all enjoy!

_‘Uhp. Yeah, that’s a hangover. Ah, shit.’_

Frankie slithered her fingers over her eyes, pressing her thumb against her eye socket. She felt the rhythmic pulsing of the vein there, pumping “big hurt-y” chemicals into her poor, sluggish brain.

“Good morning.”

She flinched. The violent jerk of her body sloshing her headache around her skull like a bowl of chili. She helplessly pressed her palm to her clammy forehead, bellowing a long, shaky moan.

“Fucking shoot me in my goddamn head. _Shhhhhit_ …”

“Have some water.”

A splattering noise in front of her roused her eyes to crack open. Cas held a plastic cup out to her, tilted slightly, explaining the light spill on the floor. Frankie clutched the cup and guzzled it like she was just fished out of the desert.

“Here.”

Frankie, wincing against the bright lamp beaming over her, looked at the bowl in Cas’s hands. A large helping of Cheerio’s piled out of milk like a tropical island. A wave of nausea tugged her stomach, tightening her throat.

Cas glared at her grimace. “You need the nourishment. Elevate your blood sugar levels. You’ll feel better.”

Frankie wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew it would only push against the pressure behind her eyes. “You’re startin’ to sound like you’ve had a hangover before,” she grumbled, taking the bowl and spoon from his hands.

“I haven’t. But I know that it often follows a period of heavy alcohol consumption.”

Frankie gazed at the coffee table in front of her as she scooped Cheerios into her mouth. Empty bottles were strewn about its surface and scattered on the floor. “Guess that explains why I’m on the couch.” She hissed as a spike pinged behind her eyes.

“Eat,” Cas pressed. He lifted off the couch and headed into the bedroom.

“When’d you become such a nurse, Cas?”

“I anticipated such a reaction after your intoxicated episode last night. I never knew you had such animated and ‘colorful’ opinions on which carbonated beverage is superior.”

Frankie winced. She tried to bury her embarrassment in spoonful of cereal.

“However, I wasn’t certain on how to care for someone stricken with veisalgia, so after you fell asleep, I walked down the road to the nearest purveyor of alcohol. The occupants there were quite conversant in how to manage the symptoms.”

Frankie took a long swig of water, a small stream spilling down her cheek. “Ah, Cas,” she grunted, out of breath.

The angel returned into the main room, his brows faintly lifted over his attentive – almost expectant – eyes. Frankie smiled at him, holding her cup up next to her head.

“Could you get me some orange juice?”

He was by her side in an instant, retrieving her cup and heading to the kitchen to fill it. He was such a soldier, always awaiting some sort of task.

Frankie slurped the remaining milk from her bowl and set it on the coffee table. Her headache was waning, but still pushing her around like an elementary school bully. It was going to be a long day.

She stretched out her arms, catching a whiff of the ripe stench of her armpits. Did she have time for a shower? She glanced over to the wall clock as she cracked her spine.

“Oh, fuck me!”

Cas rigidly stood next to the dining table, cup filled with orange juice. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m gunna be late. Dammit!”

Frankie rushed into her bedroom, squinting against the throbbing ache in her skull. Her uniform was already laid out on her mattress. Wrinkled, but ready to be worn. Cas most likely plucked it from the floor. A sweaty but sweet gesture.

Fully dressed, she strutted into the main room. She quickly smiled to Cas, standing in the middle of the room with a cup in one hand and her backpack in the other. She took the cup from his grasp. Gulp after gulp, the drink was chugged like the beers from the night before. She downed the rest with a satisfied huff and handed the empty cup back to Cas. She clasped her hand on one of her backpack’s straps and slug it over her shoulder.

“I gotta go. See ya when I get home.” She headed to the door and stepped into her sneakers.

“I won’t be here.”

Frankie paused. She glanced over her shoulder, brows narrowed. “You won’t?”

“I’m helping Sam and Dean with something, and I found a lead. I will still be here before you go to bed, but not when you arrive home.”

Frankie pressed her lips together. He was always here when she got home. Ever since their confrontation about her nightmares. She hadn’t come home to an empty apartment since…

She shook her head, yanking her lips into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, you got stuff to do. I’ll just hang out here ‘til then. Maybe I’ll stop by the store after work. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Cas put on a faint smile and nodded. “Have a good day, Frankie.”

“You, too.”

Cas was gone in a flutter the moment she opened the door.

\---___---___---___---___---

Her feet treaded heavily on the wet pavement, her head hung low. It had not been a good day. As she was making her rounds at work, she came face to face with the young blonde who she yelled at weeks ago. One sharp turn of a corner and she nearly rammed her cart into the poor girl’s chest.

Seeing her again put Frankie into a mild shock. She thought she had up and left the troupe after their confrontation. Frankie wished she had.

She made a move to say something – sorry or an explanation of her actions – but the young actress, eyes wide and full of fear, turned on her heels and sped out of the room.

Frankie hated the idea of anyone fearing her. Except demons and monsters. They could grovel for mercy until they were hoarse, but innocent civilians cowering away from her presence called for a bad day at work.

Her hand was in her pocket as she plodded down the sidewalk. She gave a heavy sigh, lifting her head to look down the street. It was damp and gloomy, mostly empty aside from one other person several feet away. They were slouched against a brick wall and sitting on the ground, bundled up in tattered clothing. An overturned hat sat beside them in a puddle.

Frankie furrowed her brows, a bleak cloud inflating her chest. She passed the old man, meeting his gray eyes. She swallowed and tightened her lips into a sympathetic smile. He didn’t have gloves, a jacket… barely anything at all. He would freeze out there.

_‘Better than burning in Hell…’_

Her shoes scuffed against the sidewalk.

Damn, what was _that_? That was an ugly thought. The old Frankie wouldn’t make a crack like that!

She bit her lip. She still had a lot to relearn. But extending a kind gesture to the man may be a good start to restoring her compassion.

Frankie turned around, fixing her smile into one of genuine nature. She removed her keys from her pocket and shrugged off her jacket. She stepped up to the frail man and held the garment out to him. His bushy brows slowly lifted.

“It’s a bit cold out. Gunna get colder soon. You should bundle up. Stay warm.”

The old man’s bearded cheeks widened in a bright grin. “Oh, but won’t you be cold?”

Frankie shrugged. “I’ll live. I’m a fighter. Oh, not to say _you’re_ not a fighter. You’re strong. I mean, clearly, for going through all this with a smile. A-And I don’t mean to make any assumptions, I just- I see you-”

He hoarsely chuckled, placing his frigid hands over her own. “You’re a thoughtful soul with a kind heart. Thank you, dear.” He accepted the jacket with shaky hands.

Frankie’s anxiety melted at his gratefulness. “You’re welcome. I mean, it’s the least I could do. Anything I can do to help someone else through their hard times. I’ve had some of my own so… hate to see others going through it, too.”

“Well, it seems to me like those hard times are behind you. Only good times in store down the road.”

Frankie mustered a smile, but there was no heart behind it. It was a nice sentiment, but she felt like things would only get more difficult.

His cold hand wrapped around hers once more. She glanced down at his fragile fingers, skin so thin that it looked like paper. “You are special. One among billions. God has blessed you, sweet child.”

She didn’t have the strength to make the smile convincing anymore. She suppressed a soulful sigh. “Thank you, sir. But there’s millions of people more deserving of His attention. I don’t really think I’m on His radar, but I’ve made my peace with that.”

“Oh, such nonsense! You could not be more important to Him. As well as myself, and many others!”

Frankie hummed a feeble titter.

“You will see. Very soon. We have not forgotten you, Francine.”

Her smile fell.

Frankie’s eyes slowly widened. Her cheeks warmed, and her throat tightened. She could hear her heart in her ears as she stepped back, slowly slithering her hand from his grip.

“What?”

The old man hoisted himself from the ground, the frail tremble in his limbs gone. He stood tall, taller than Sam, and was as thin as a pole. His white and gray beard reached his chest, and his smile still slit his whiskered cheeks.

“Y-You…” Frankie gulped, taking another step back. “Angel?”

“My name is Jehoel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”

Frankie blinked at the figure in awe. This was it, wasn’t it? Right here on the sidewalk, across the street from a Blockbuster Video, she was finally going to fulfill her destiny.

“Are you…? You saved me from…”

The old angel bowed his head with a placid smile. “I am afraid that I cannot be credited for such an honor. I was sent by the one who raised you from perdition.”

“Who? Why-Why didn’t they come to me personally?”

“He wishes to remain anonymous for now. He worries that if you are given his name, those you affiliate with may spread untrue rumors. His reputation is very important to him, especially in this anarchic time.”

_‘Jesus, how much fuckin’ longer are they gunna keep me chasin’ this ball on a string?!’_

The angel reached out to her. She suppressed her instinct to jerk away from his touch. “Not to worry, dear child,” Jehoel solaced, gently grasping her shoulder. “You will speak to him soon. He eagerly anticipates working with you. However, there are still preparations to be made before you are ready to meet him.”

Frankie felt an odd mixture turn her stomach. A mixture of fear, curiosity, and, most notably, relief.

Not knowing who pulled her from Hell had polluted her mind with several theories, not all of them encouraging. Any angel could have yanked her up. Michael, Raphael, even Lucifer, and that was the worst possible theory.

Frankie didn’t forget the last words the Devil spoke to her. He could have plucked her from the chains and pulled some manipulative bull to make her believe Heaven was behind her rescue. The very worst of that theory would be the fact that he’s still alive, out and about and causing havoc. If she hadn’t seen him die with her own eyes, she would be inclined to believe it.

But to have this angel in front of her now, to hear him refer to God and Heaven so lovingly, she was convinced that Heaven truly did have her back. And if that meant she never had to step foot in the pit again, she would do anything they commanded.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll do whatever he needs. I’m ready.”

“Before you can work for Heaven, you must foster your faith. It is weak. For a human of your prominence, well, that is concerning.”

_‘Prominence?’_ Did she really mean that much to them? Gabriel was starting to seem like a fat fucking liar.

“Alright. What do I need to do?”

“You must cease the uncouth use of your tongue. God did not grant you speech to curse his name. As well, your overconsumption of the drink is hindering to your morality. Fill your cup with devotion to our Heavenly Father rather than tequila.”

Frankie muffled her grimace behind a thoughtful hum. “No swearing, no drinking.” Well, that was twenty-five percent of her personality out the window. “Anything else?”

“Yes. You will attend regular church services to reap knowledge and faith from your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.”

Church. They wanted her to go to church. Of all things. However, while she had a list of things that she assumed would be more useful to the planet, she had to settle with the fact that they were the experts. They had their plan, and she needed to play her part.

_‘The angels know best, the angels know best, the angels know best…’_

“And if I do all that, _then_ my angelic savior will tell me why I was deserving of being saved?”

The tall angel smiled brightly at Frankie, his eyes wrinkling. “All you need is faith, my dear. And your questions will be answered.”

_‘The angels know best…’_

“Then I’ll get right on it.”

“I look forward to witnessing your progress.” He held Frankie’s jacket out to her. She gingerly removed it from his thin hand. “I am honored to have been in your presence, Francine Elaine Pearce-Winchester.”

_‘Geez, does this guy want an autograph or something?’_

“Nice meeting you, too.”

The angel kept his unnervingly still grin on her. Frankie tightened her cheeks into an uncomfortable smile before sliding her jacket on and turning around. She heard fluttering as she stepped towards home. As she walked down the street, she periodically glanced over her shoulder.

\---___---___---___---___---

She stood in front of the mirror. Her tired face stared right back. Her eyes flicked down to her stomach. She curled her fingers under the hem and lifted, reflecting her bare skin onto the glass.

The angel’s pink handprints glowered from among her scarce freckles. The blotched swelling of the blemish had gone down within the first week. Now, it was a glaringly obscure discoloration stretching around her flanks, still sensitive to the slightest touch.

It didn’t hit her until she walked into her apartment the severity of her encounter. In the moment, it seemed perfectly understandable to receive Heaven’s message. Almost normal. But just so happening to come across the very angel that had a message for her meant more than luck.

How could they have known where she’d be? That she’d been swearing? Drinking? Acting immoral?

They were watching her.

_He_ was watching her.

She swallowed at his handprints, his brand on her. Who was he? She had to know.

But before anything, Cas had to know, too.

She smoothed her shirt over her mottled stomach. She sighed. She hated to bother him. Though, she knew if she didn’t take the earliest opportunity to inform him that something was wrong, she’d get a lecture.

“Cas, uh, I know you’re busy, so take your time. But… something’s happened. It’s-It’s big. So, uh, y’know, whenever you can, please come talk to me. No rush.”

She rubbed her hand over her face, groaning at the rising headache. She replayed every word of her conversation with the angel.

“Frankie?”

Her hand slid down her face. She frowned. “Ugh, Cas, I said _take your time_ ,” she griped, hurrying into the main room. Cas stood in the middle of the room, meeting her eyes with an apprehensive gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

Frankie raised her hand to calm him. “Relax. I’m not hurt or anything. No one broke in. _I’m_ fine.” She pursed her lips. “More or less.”

“You wouldn’t have prayed for me if something wasn’t wrong.”

“Well, yeah, something’s _wrong_ , but…” Frankie sighed. She stepped over to the table and sat down. “I know you need to get back. I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Frankie.” She watched Cas step over to the chair next to her and sit down. His eyes softened, brows narrowed in concern. “Tell me what happened.”

The tension in her face melted. She relaxed against her chair. She smiled at him.

But her smile abruptly fell at the reminder of her encounter.

“Cas… I talked to an angel today.”

The softness in his eyes might as well have never formed from how quickly they turned stony. His back straightened, the bellicose glower she feared hardening his face. She hadn’t missed it.

“ _What_?”

She averted from his aggressive eyes. “I was walking home from work when there was this guy on the sidewalk. I stopped to give him my jacket and he started saying all this weirdly nice stuff, and then he said my name. I didn’t give it to him! He knew who I was!”

Cas’s eye twitched. Frankie gulped.

“A-And he said he was an Angel of the Lord.”

“What was his name?” Cas spoke in an uncomfortably level voice. “Did he give you his name?”

“Uh, u-uh, something like Jay-… Jekyll? Ah, Joel?”

“Jehoel.”

“Yeah!” Frankie’s brows cinched with unease. “What, do you know him?”

Cas pressed his lips into a line as he pensively gazed off to the side. “The Good Messenger. You could say that he is Heaven’s mailman. He delivers messages for the angels.”

“Wait, so, angels tell _him_ what to say instead of going off and delivering it themselves? Seems pretty lazy of them.” Frankie chewed on her cheek in thought. Her eyes flicked up to her friend’s faraway stare. “Have you ever given Jehoel a message?”

“No. And I consider myself lucky for not having done so.”

“Why’s that?”

He returned his eyes to Frankie. “Many consider him nettlesome.”

“Yeah. He was… a _lot_.”

“What message did he give you?”

Frankie clenched her jaw, massaging her temple as her headache worsened. She deeply sighed, leaning on the table. “He had a message from the angel that rescued me.”

Cas’s brows yanked together. “What did they say?”

“Well, _he_ told me I drink and swear too much.”

Cas’s brow ever so slightly quirked, appearing like a gesture of agreement. Frankie decided to ignore that look.

“Before I’m fit to grace his presence, I need to fix my character. My faith is apparently ‘weak,’ so he wants me to go to church to strengthen it.”

Cas was quiet as he processed the information. She could tell he was worrying about the same thing she was. How long had they been watching her, and just how much did they know?

And for Frankie, she worried that they knew Cas’s location, and that they might use that as leverage if she wasn’t obedient. So, she was going to be dang well obedient!

“What is our course of action?” Cas asked.

Frankie shrugged and was as nonchalant as humanly possible with her answer. “Go to church, I guess.”

\---___---___---___---___---

Frankie and Cas stood in front of the large brick building with wooden accents. A white sign with dark blue lettering spelled “PINEVIEW CHURCH OF CHRIST” at the front. Pairs and groups of well-dressed patrons filtered through the double dark wood doors.

Frankie pulled on the hem of her green pinafore dress and adjusted the knot of her white undershirt. It had been quite some time since she wore something decent. She wasn’t sure if she could pull off “morally upstanding” anymore, and the regular churchgoers in their Sunday best didn’t help her self-esteem.

She swallowed against her discomfort and took Cas by the arm. When her hand clenched against his sleeve, a piece of her anxiety melted away. They traveled up the steps and walked through the front door.

Frankie was immediately hit with a freezing AC. She was glad she was wearing long sleeves. The church’s lobby was moderately spacious. It reminded her of the community center. It had relatively the same things: a small couch and lounge chairs, a bulletin board and table with welcome cards, flowers _everywhere_ , and a small closet to keep umbrellas and coats.

Frankie bit her lip as she looked at the men’s attire around her. She slinked her arm out of Cas’s, gathering his attention to her discomfited demeanor.

“Take off your coat.” Cas tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “I-I just think… y’know, it’ll make you look less shady, I dunno.”

Despite Cas’s confusion, he could tell she was under a great deal of stress. She wasn’t in her element here, so he would do whatever she needed him to do to help her relax.

He shrugged his coat from his shoulders. Frankie’s eyes locked onto his sleek black suit. Her brows arched.

It was so strange; she had always known there was another layer there. She just didn’t realize that it was so… respectable. She liked it, but she had to admit that he looked a little naked without that tan trench coat.

He hung his coat on a hook in the closet, and then they moved towards another set of double doors. The next set was wide open, and patrons were walking through, nodding to a woman that stood beside the doorway as they passed her. Frankie held onto Cas’s arm as they approached her.

“Oh my! What a nice surprise! Welcome. We love to see new faces,” she beamed and extended a hand to Frankie and Cas. “Faith Connor.”

_‘Oh, what are the flippin’ odds?’_ Frankie thought.

Faith smiled at Cas as he shook her hand. “How may we address you lovely folks?”

“Castiel,” he grunted.

Frankie blinked, another wave of nerves prickling her skin.

“‘Castiel.’ Now that’s an interesting name.”

“I-It’s German!” Frankie quickly butt in. She forced a smile, trying to mask the new awkward air. “Hi, I’m, uh, I’m Frankie. Frankie Pearce.”

Faith matched her grin and gave a welcoming nod. “We’re glad to have you both visit us. Please, take a seat wherever you like. Service will start soon.”

Frankie bobbed her head in an awkward nod as they moved forward. The next room they entered was huge. Several rows of long pews lined the room underneath an expansive vaulted ceiling. Minimalist light fixtures hung over the pews, and at the end of a long aisle was a wooden altar. At the back of the large room, a podium presided over the auditorium.

Most of the pews were full of the church regulars. Frankie chewed on her cheek at the thought of sitting next to a stranger. What if there was some sort of ritual and she didn’t know how it went down? Would they laugh at her? Judge her?

She spotted a nice empty spot on one of the back rows. She pulled on Cas’s arm, guiding him over to the vacant pew. Frankie held on tight to his sleeve even after they were seated.

“You’re trembling.”

Frankie’s looked over to Cas. His gaze was set to the room, examining every chatting pair of patrons and lively children. Frankie took a deep breath, finally noticing the shake in her hand.

“I’ve just got the jitters, is all. I feel like a fish outta water.”

“Have you never stepped foot inside a church before?”

Oh, man, she really was morally corrupt. No wonder the angels ordered her to come here. Frankie puffed a nervous grumble. “I know, I know. I’m a heathen. No need to rub it in.”

She saw, good and well, that Cas looked at her in the corner of her eye, but she forced her attention to a man who was walking up the raised platform to the podium. The remaining patrons took their seats as the man adjusted a microphone on the stand.

“An especially good morning to everyone! It’s a beautiful day and a blessed morning to see such bright faces.”

The man seemed to be some kind of announcer. He mentioned how they got some much-needed rain the night before, announced upcoming birthdays, and asked the men and women in the auditorium to keep certain ailing members in their prayers.

“Brother Hartford will lead singing this morning, and we will follow with the opening prayer from Brother Jett. And if you will all take out your song books, we will join together in worshipful song.” The man smiled widely. Frankie could see all the way in the back how his eyes crinkled against his grin.

The low shuffling of the congregation alerted Frankie’s attention. Her eyes swept across the adjacent pews, watching as the patrons took out a thick, maroon hymnal. Frankie flicked her eyes down to a pocket jutting from the back of the pew in front of her. Two of the same books sat on each side of a Bible. Frankie snatched one of the song books and forced her attention to another, older, man that made his way to the podium.

“Please open up your song books to number three hundred and seventy-eight. Three-seven-eight.”

Frankie opened the large hymnal to a random page. She blinked into the book, dazed. Oh, it was a song book, alright. Fit with sheet music and notes and pitches and all kinds of stuff Frankie was hopelessly confused by. Did she have to be a trained singer to attend services?

She flipped to the right page. The featured song was called “The Solid Rock.” She didn’t get a moment to read the lyrics before the older man lifted his hand, poised to conduct, and spoke, “Let us sing,” signaling the room to burst into harmonized song.

“ _My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness_!”

Frankie looked around the room. Wow, these women could hit some notes. The men, too. Even the kids sang their hearts out. Frankie didn’t really listen to a lot of acapella – orchestration was more her style – but the sound of a hundred or more churchgoers belting their hearts out threw her back into the pew.

She realized, too late, that she was supposed to sing, too. She forced her head down into the song book, focusing on the tiny, black lettering of the lyrics. She didn’t know this song. She’d never heard it in her life.

_‘Just fake it ‘til you make it, Franks.’_

She mumbled the words, wavering her tone and pitch to match the closest singer, hoping that she was close to sounding decent. The verse ended, and her eyes traveled back to the top of the page. Her ears locked in on the singer and copied their part, her pitch terribly off.

Her eyes shifted to Cas. He was sitting resolute. Silent. Frankie narrowed her brows. She lightly kicked his ankle. He snapped his head over to her, his own brows furrowed. She cocked her head towards the other song book as she butchered the lyrics in harmony with the congregation.

Cas tightened his jaw. He snatched the remaining song book and flipped to the page, but he kept his mouth shut. Frankie realized that was probably the best she’d get out of him, but she figured she was the one who needed faith, not him.

The song ended, draining the room of its joyous sound. The song leader descended the platform and returned to his seat, another man making his way to the podium.

Cas shut the hymnal in his lap just hard enough for Frankie to clench her teeth. He was irritated to have to be there, she could see that. She knew she was asking a lot of him to come with her.

She lightly squeezed his arm to alert his attention and leaned closer to him. “I really appreciate you coming with me. Like, you have no idea. I know there’s more important stuff you gotta do,” she whispered.

Cas, eyes set forward, pressed his lips into a thin line before softly sighing through his nose. “It’s true. I do not wish to be here.”

Frankie forced the guilty lump in her throat down with a swallow.

“But I don’t trust the angels watching over you. I’d rather lose my lead on your brothers’ case than leave you to their supervision.”

A woman with more wrinkles than strands of hair whipped around from a few pews forward to violently shush the conversing pair. Frankie bit down on her lips and sank into the pew, her cheeks heating to a soft pink shade. Cas glared.

Brother Jett adjusted the microphone on the podium with slight feedback. “Please bow with me.”

The praying man broke into a lengthy monologue, slow and seeming to go on for a few minutes. Frankie was at a loss. She never really got this part. Being left with Alden Biddick and his family for so many years, she had bowed her head and shut her eyes to many prayers, but she never really knew what she was supposed to do.

Did she say her own prayer? Did she focus on the man’s? Both? Neither? She couldn’t exactly tap on the nearest shoulder and ask the person in front of her.

But she could ask the one next to her.

Fingers twitching in hesitation, her hand slid down Cas’s arm and cupped his own. His fingers were warm, like the bulbs of dim fluorescent lights. Heat without sweat. They were getting warmer lately, and Frankie tried to not be worried of the meaning behind it.

_‘Castiel, I am now praying to you,’_ she awkwardly announced in her head. _‘Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for-… well, how are you gunna squeeze if you can’t hear me?’_

One beat of Frankie’s heart, then another, and then she felt a light pressure against her fingers.

_‘Oh good! Alright, so I have a question. Can you hear this guy’s prayer as he’s giving it? I mean in your head like this, not out loud. Squeeze once for yes, twice for no.’_

Cas squeezed her hand two times.

_‘’Cause it’s not directed to you?’_

One squeeze.

_‘Huh. Uh, okay. So, while he does his thing, do I do my own thing? Or am I supposed to listen in on his prayer and nod my head in agreement?’_

Several beats of Frankie’s heart passed before she realized there was no way for him to answer.

_‘Sorry. That wasn’t a yes or no question.’_

_‘Would it help if I answered in my own words?’_

Frankie jumped on the pew, snapping her eyes open just in time for Brother Jett to finish his prayer with a resounding “Amen,” from the congregation. She whipped her head over to Cas, gawking from the echo of his voice inside her head. He stared back, waiting for the answer she was too dumbstruck to give.

Brother Hartford took the podium again, announcing another song. Frankie mindlessly opened the hymnal to the right page, reeling over the abrupt discovery of a new angelic ability.

_‘You’ve been able to talk in my head for how long?!’_

_‘I suppose I have always harnessed the ability,’_ he answered, his voice rippling off the walls of her skull. The sensation was bridging on discomfort.

_‘Oh, you suppose?!’_

_‘Not all humans are able to perceive an angel’s voice inside their mind. Less so outside of it. I assume you are able due to your unspecified affiliation to Heaven.’_

She nodded. Her eyes flicked over the pews in thought. _‘Can Dean?’_

_‘I assume he can, though I have never attempted it with him. He is more sheltered over his privacy than you are.’_

The congregation lifted their voice in another song. Frankie followed in a low and off-pitch voice.

_‘Why haven’t you tried it with me before?’_

_‘I was afraid you would associate it with the ability to read your thoughts.’_

_‘It’s not the same?’_

_‘The process is different. I can only hear what you choose to transmit.’_

_‘This is weird.’_

_‘I will stop.’_

_‘Well… no, you don’t have to. At least I can ask my questions without ‘Professor McGonagall’ yelling at me.’_

Despite her want to explore the newfound connection, the sensation patting against the walls of her brain was beginning to become more prominent, wavering her focus on the song. She placed her attention on the much slower hymn until it was finished.

A collection of children of varying ages exited their pews and headed to a door at the front of the room. After a brief clarification from a new attendee at the podium, it was time for Bible study. Apparently, this was different from the sermon.

The man dove right into his lesson, spouting scriptures left and right, waving his hands animatedly, and asking – no, _shouting_ – the occasional question to a random churchgoer. Frankie tried to focus on the message, but she couldn’t follow a thing. His lesson was based on preexisting knowledge of Bible stories.

There was one bit of his spiel that she picked up on, nice and clear. A story in the book of Mark where Jesus Christ foretells about his death and resurrection. She related a little too well with that tidbit and forced herself to zone out before a memory from the pit could surface.

She was pathetic. She couldn’t follow along, and when she did, she was in risk of being thrown into a panic attack. She felt hopelessly lost, useless. _No_ , she had to fake it ‘til she made it. It was the first day. She’d learn. She just had to give it time.

_‘You’re trembling again.’_

She sighed. _‘I can’t understand what he’s talking about. I mean, I get it’s a story, but I… I don’t get it. I can’t focus on what he’s trying to say. Does that make me a sinner?’_

_‘I believe it means you have ADHD.’_

Frankie elbowed Cas in his side, a half-smirk stretching her cheek.

The man continued with his lesson. Frankie picked up little pieces of understanding here and there, but got discouraged by the amount she didn’t. She realized that a portion of her lack of understanding must have something to do with the angel next to her.

She thought bringing him would be a comfort. While it was, he was also acting as a bit of a distraction, one that grew the more she fought against it. She decided to try and empty her mind of her questions so she could focus on the service once the sermon came around.

_‘Hey, Cas.’_

_‘Yes?’_

_‘Why didn’t you wanna come? I mean, me basically forcing you didn’t help, but… like, why don’t you like church? I’d think as an angel… y’know…’_

Cas slowly sighed. Frankie briefly glanced over to him, watching his stoic expression.

_‘It isn’t a matter of ‘liking’ it. I think it does good for humans. It gives them faith, just as the angels hope it’ll do for you. But for me…’_

Frankie pressed her lips together. She slinked her arm around his, hoping it would give him some sort of comfort.

_‘For me, it is a lack of belief in what they teach. Not so much the parables, but their knowledge – or lack thereof – of God. This man says He’s everywhere, all around us. If that’s the case…’_ Cas turned his head to Frankie, pressing his own lips together. _‘Why haven’t I found Him yet?’_

Frankie tilted her head, tightening her mouth into a pitiful smile. She hugged his arm, silently nodding her head to him. _‘You’ll find Him, Cas. He’s out there, somewhere. I know you’ll bring Him back. Or at least, I believe you can.’_

Cas blinked, and then smiled. It was one of those human smiles that concerned Frankie, though in that moment, she didn’t altogether mind it.

Upon the children’s entrance and the animated speaker’s return to his seat, Brother Hartford announced another song. Frankie nearly rolled her eyes. So far, church was just singing, monologuing, and smiling really big to one another. Though, she did have to admit that she imagined worse.

By the time the song was over, Frankie’s stomach began to growl so loud that Cas gave her a curious glance. She forced the heat in her cheeks away as she set her eyes forward. She watched as a line of men gathered on one side of the altar at the end of the aisle.

_‘What is this now?’_

_‘The Lord’s Supper. The congregation partakes of the Body and Blood of Christ in remembrance of His sacrifice.’_

Frankie grimaced. _‘It’s not real blood, is it?’_

_‘No, it’s grape juice and unleavened bread.’_

_‘Ah.’_

The men bowed their heads, signaling the rest of the room to do so, and a single man gave a brief prayer. They then each took a golden platter and stopped by each pew to let the churchgoers take their piece.

One of the men reached Cas and Frankie’s pew and lowered the platter to the girl. She took the dish, staring down at the pale, flaky bread sitting on a doily. Curious – but starving – she broke off a small piece and held the platter out to Cas. All he had to do was give her a pointed look before she sheepishly offered the dish back to the man.

She placed the bread in her mouth and chewed, her jaw slowing when the bland, gritty taste spread across her tongue. It made saltines seem like a delicacy. She hid her grimace.

The distributors returned to the altar and gave another prayer before making their same rounds with a different platter. By the time it reached Frankie, there were only a few tiny cups of nearly black liquid left. Still hiding her grimace, Frankie took one and knocked it back before placing it upside down on the dish. Well, Cas was right. It was grape juice, and it worked wonders in erasing the bitter bread from her mouth.

Another droning song down and it seemed like things were settling. She was told to mark a song in the hymnal with the attached ribbon for after the sermon. A man, older than the others had been, gradually ascended the platform to the podium with a thick Bible in his hand. This had to be the preacher.

Frankie sank back into the pew, silently sighing. This sermon better be life changing. So far, Frankie felt like an outcast. While she was welcomed with a smile, she wasn’t being treated like an equal. They were all well-rehearsed in the rituals and the lessons, but not Frankie. She wasn’t learning. She was just experiencing, but not at the same rate as the rest. She felt like that one lamb that ran away from Moses’ flock.

At least she retained _something_ from the Bible study.

“Why are you alive?” the preacher asked the room.

She snorted. _‘Boy, would I like to know,’_ she thought to herself.

“What does God plan for you? Who are you in His world? Think about what makes you who you are, and ask yourself now, ‘Who are you?’ Ask, ‘What is your purpose?’”

Frankie blinked her eyes to the preacher.

“Not one person in this room can give a clear answer to these questions. We are familiar with ourselves. We talk to ourselves every day. We know what our favorite flavor of pie is, we know what TV show makes us laugh.” A quiet hum of laugher rustled through the room. “We are the person we see most, but we don’t know who we are. I am a father. A husband. A son. I am a worshipper of God. But do I know Marshall McGrady? Well, no. I don’t. For only our Holy Father knows our true self.”

_‘Well, there’s proof positive He’s not gunna help me. He knows just how worthless I am.’_

“God knows who we are meant to be. We each have a story. Every person in this room has a purpose. Some may call it ‘destiny’. I don’t like that word. It has too much promise. It’s definite. He knows the end of our story, but not because of destiny. Because of expectation.”

Frankie quirked a brow.

“Please join me in reading Jeremiah twenty-nine: eleven.” He cleared his throat. “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Frankie pensively rubbed her fingers together, her eyes tethered to the elder speaker at the podium.

The preacher looked up from his Bible, meeting eyes with several churchgoers. “I know of many who misinterpret the message of this verse. It’s not saying that God has a written guide of each move you make. It’s not saying that God has your ending wrapped up in a bow, ready for you to reach the finish line. It means that God has an expectation for you. He knows you and knows what it takes to prosper you, to give you peace. But we must find our own way to that peace. He is ready for us. But we must prepare to be ready for Him and His plans for us. God’s word calls for patient trust.”

Frankie’s grip on Cas’s arm loosened. Her brows deeply furrowed, her eyes unwavering from the preacher.

“Your pain and ailments won’t go away the first time you pray for their absence. Financial troubles, an impending divorce, a personal battle, they won’t go away by simply having faith. But it’s the faith you possess that will act as your shield. He gave you everything you need. Battle your way into His arms. Find your way to the peace He promises you. Because that is what it means to patiently trust in His will.”

Frankie’s eyes fell to her lap. Very pretty words. The God this man was describing sounded… well, He sounded like the type of force she needed in her life. Forgiving. Just. But the God that had been described to her was a deadbeat, a coward. She had trouble with who she was inclined to believe, the angels or the Bible. The best she could do was work with the evidence she was given.

She did everything wrong. She sold her soul, deceived, consorted with unholy creatures, murdered. She even considered to take Lucifer up on his offer for a brief moment.

And after all of that – _all of it_ – she was pulled from Hell. She was saved from her suffering. The angels were still in her corner.

_God_ was still in her corner.

“Please turn to Jeremiah one: five. ‘Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. And before you were born, I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.’”

He had a plan for _her_. He selected _her_. Put a brand on _her_ soul. Frankie Pearce mattered to Him, she had to. He knew this would happen before she was conceived. Maybe even before her mother was conceived. Why give up at the homestretch?

Maybe He didn’t abandon her. Maybe He was still watching her, waiting for her to make her way to Him. Because He expects her to. It’s not her destiny, it’s His expectation.

“He is waiting for you. Waiting for you to take your place in His world. If you are not a Christian this morning, the door is wide open. All you must do is accept His plan for you, and to patiently trust Him. I ask you to consider Him as we come together and stand as we sing.”

The congregation rose to their feet, their song books open.

Frankie shook her head in a daze. _‘Woah… what the heck just happened?’_ That preacher had her eating out of the palm of his hand, like he had her under some kind of spell. She scrambled to open the hymnal and stand with the rest of the churchgoers.

_“Careless soul, why will you linger, wand’ring from the fold of God? Hear you not the invitation? Oh, prepare to meet thy God!”_

Frankie’s eyes read the lyrics, but she did not sing along.

“ _Careless soul_ …”

“ _Oh, careless soul!_ ”

“ _Oh, heed the warning…_ ”

“ _Heed the warning!_ ”

“ _For your life…_ ”

“ _Will soon be gone-_ ”

“ _Will soon be gone!_ ”

“ _-oh, yes, your life will soon be gone!_ ”

“ _Oh, how sad to face the judgment…_ ”

“ _Oh, how sad to face the judgement!_ ”

“ _Unprepared-!_ ”

“ _Unprepared to meet thy God!_ ”

“- _To meet thy God!_ ”

She lowered the book, resting it on the pew in front of her, listening to the verses as they were sung.

“ _Hear you not the earnest pleadings of your friends that wish you well? And perhaps before tomorrow, you’ll be called to meet your God!_ ”

What _did_ she believe? The people around her knew from the bottom of their hearts that God was here, watching over them, listening to their prayers. Cas and Gabriel – even Lucifer – felt like He was gone and not coming back. So, what did she believe?

“ _If you spurn the invitation till the Spirit shall depart, then you’ll see your sad condition: Unprepared to meet thy God!_ ”

“Careless soul…,” Frankie sang under her breath. “Oh, heed the warning… for your life… will soon be gone… Oh, how sad… to face the judgment…”

She believed the angels were watching over her. She believed that she answered to them. She believed that they would hurt her or – God forbid – Castiel if she didn’t submit to them. Zachariah had proven that long ago.

And she believed that God had to come back, and when He did, she’d be ready for Him.

“Unprepared to meet thy God.”

\---___---___---___---___---

She burst through the door, her already swelled grin widening at the sight of her friend at the table. “Hey, Cas!” She hung her backpack on the hook by the front door and slipped out of her dress shoes.

“Hello, Frankie.”

“So, _I_ learned something wild today!” Frankie strutted into the kitchen. “At the Women’s Study tonight, we talked about the ‘Song of Solomon.’ And the whole book is basically a romance novel? Did you know about this?!”

She opened the freezer and took out a microwavable meal.

“Yes. Though, it has more substance than that.”

“Well, yeah, of course. But it’s still crazy, right? The _Bible_ has a guy describing a woman’s _boobs_ as ‘gazelles.’ Right outta left field for me!” She mashed the buttons on the microwave and closed the door on her dinner. “It’s a beautiful book, though. We had a lovely discussion about it.”

She reached into a cabinet for a tray to place her meal on, humming to herself. She grabbed a cup and filled it with ice before pouring sweet tea into it. “This is my story, this is my song… praising my Savior all the day long…”

“You’re home late tonight.”

Frankie quieted her low singing. She glanced at the wall clock. It was a quarter to eleven. “Oh. Yeah. Our lesson kinda went long tonight. I’ll tell ya, I couldn’t keep my hand down,” she chuckled.

“You said the meeting would be over at eight.”

Frankie glanced over her shoulder. Cas’s brows were hung low on his face, his eyes stony. His hands were linked in his lap. Frankie narrowed her eyebrows, confused at his peeved aura.

“Uh… yeah, sorry. Those ladies like to talk.” The microwave beeped. Frankie quickly turned and opened its door. “I guess I shoulda told you I was gunna be late coming back. I didn’t mess you up, did I?”

“No. It’s not me I’m worried you’re impairing.”

His words were drowned out by the burn that spread across her fingers. She gasped, dropping her meal onto the counter. “Oh, dag _nabbit_!”

Cas sighed. “I lament the profanity.”

Frankie turned with her fingers in her mouth. She hummed a question, not having heard him. He shook his head, dismissively. Frankie set the food on the tray and walked over to the table across from Cas.

“I collected your mail. I placed it in front of the couch.”

Frankie smiled against the fork in her mouth. “Oh, bless you,” she offhandedly muttered.

Cas tightened his jaw. The piqued look in his eyes flared. Frankie slowly lowered the fork onto the tray.

“Cas, are you okay? You seem really tense tonight. Something bothering you?”

He looked off to the side. “It has been bothering me for weeks.”

Frankie’s brows sloped, her eyes filling with worry. She scooted her chair closer to the table, leaning towards him. “Why didn’t you say anything? If something’s wrong-… What’s been bothering you? How can I help?”

Cas’s faraway stare endured until he let out a short sigh. His lips parted, but he stopped himself from speaking. Frankie tilted her head, curious and concerned.

“I only…,” he finally spoke. He clenched his jaw and wiped the surly look from his face, his expression reverting to his usual emotionless gape. “I’m only concerned for your safety. You have been coming home too late. These streets are dangerous at night.”

Frankie gave a reassuring smile, softly shaking her head. “I’m not in any danger, Cas. I’m being watched over, remember?” Frankie was blind to the twitch in the angel’s eye. “Besides, if you’re really worried about it, you can always come with me.”

“I don’t think I am qualified to attend a ‘women’s study.’”

Frankie chuckled passed the food in her cheeks. She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You got a point there. Well, how about this then? Tomorrow I’m meeting a group at the diner down the street for a ‘Breakfast and Bible’ lesson. Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be fun!”

Cas’s head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Tomorrow is your day off.”

“From work, yeah,” Frankie shrugged. She scanned his calculating stare, practically watching him think.

“You attended church services on Sunday. Twice. On Monday, you had a ‘Youth Group.’ Tuesday, you volunteered at the ‘Vacation Bible School’ for the congregation’s children. The church has midweek study on Wednesday nights, and you haven’t missed one yet. You volunteered again for ‘Vacation Bible School’ yesterday, and tonight was the ‘Women’s Study.’”

Frankie quirked a brow. “Your point?”

Cas righted his head, the sullen look bleeding back into his expression. “Your schedule is dangerously congested.”

“I don’t see what’s so dangerous about it,” Frankie snorted.

“You labor for nine hours in the day, and then hasten to attend religious obligations. It has imparted an increasingly adverse effect on you.”

Frankie set her fork on the tray with a noisy clink, her brows furrowing and lips frowning. “How so, Cas?” she mumbled.

“Most concerning is that the stress of fulfilling work and spiritual compulsions has irradicated your progress against your nightmares. The more activities you undertake, the more intense the memory. That is what I have deducted from my observations.”

Frankie pursed her lips. She tapped her knuckles against the table. Castiel had an annoyingly good point. Before she met Jehoel, her nightmares had only come around twice a week. The number had since climbed to five.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ll have to cut back before they get worse.” Frankie nodded, satisfied with the decision. She picked up her fork and took a bite of her dinner. “I’ll ask to work seven hours.”

“ _Frankie_.”

“What?” She took bigger bites of her meal, wanting to finish her meal quickly before the negative energy in the room worsened. “You’ve expressed before how much you think I should pull back on my hours.”

“And I agree with you, but taking two hours off your job won’t change anything. You must pull away from your ‘recreational’ pastimes as well.”

Frankie glared at Cas. A few tense seconds passed before she sighed and lifted from the table. “I can’t do that.”

“You must.”

“No, Cas, I really _mustn’t_.” Frankie forcefully threw the meal’s bowl into the trash, making the can wobble. She shoved the tray and fork into the side of the full sink. “I can’t.”

“And why’s that?” Cas argued with a vague sense of sarcasm.

The girl turned around, leaning her hand on the counter and pressing her nub into her side. “Do I really gotta explain it? I’m doing what the angels want me to do. I am so close to figuring myself out and I’m not about to slow down.”

“Yes. It is completely rational that analyzing the way a man born ten centuries before the birth of Christ describes his lover’s breasts is crucial in rediscovering your character.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Y’know what, Cas? If you got such a big problem with it, why don’t you find Jehoel and figure out why my soul was branded yourself? ‘Cause until someone else comes forward and tells me, I’m gunna go the route that I know will lead to the answer.”

Frankie’s hair bristled with the inimical energy. She felt suffocated under it and closed her eyes. She took deeps breaths, meditating the negativity away.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so heated. I just know that this feels like the right path I’m supposed to take. We knew this day would come, and I did tell you that when it did, I was gunna obey them even if it went against my own opinions on the matter. I’m not gunna stop now just because I can’t get a good night’s sleep. There are more important things to worry about. More important beings that I need to be concerned with.”

“You mean the enemy.”

Frankie glared at the grumpy angel. “Y’know I-I wouldn’t think I’d have to spell this out, but, Cas, I’m doing this to protect us from them.”

The angel narrowed his eyes under cinched brows. “How are you protecting us?”

“The angels knew I was acting unfavorable, right? How the heck would they know that if they weren’t spying on me behind closed doors? _These_ closed doors?” Cas’s eyes descended to the floor, realization seeping into his expression. “ _So_ , that means they for sure know you’re here. They’re probably listening to this argument. Now why haven’t made a move on your rebellious butt is beyond me, but I’m not about to risk your life to save myself from a couple bad dreams.”

Cas was quiet for a long moment, the peeved look on his face never changing. “You have a point. Perhaps then I should distance myself.”

Frankie hid her gawk behind a firm frown.

“As I’ve said in the past, I cannot keep you safe if I am dead. And you’ve made it clear that you welcome the protection from those that wish for my demise.” Frankie opened her mouth to speak, but never got the chance. “If you continue to willingly subject yourself to torture – to refuse my help – then I feel that I should make myself scarce.”

Frankie clenched her jaw. She buried her anxiety behind an irritated expression. “You do what you want. I’m going to bed. I gotta get up early tomorrow.”

She passed by the table and headed into her bedroom, leaving a crack in the door. She dressed down to a tank top and shorts. There was no possible way for her to know that Cas watched her get down on her knees and lean against her bed in prayer with an apprehensive gaze.

\---___---___---___---___---

“Hey. Hey, Frankie.”

She jolted in her seat, her eyes snapping open. She whipped her head around the living room, taking in the empty seats surrounding her. Brows furrowed, she glanced up at the woman with her hand on her shoulder. “Faith? Where is everybody?”

The older woman smiled sympathetically. “They’ve gone home. We’re done with our study.”

Frankie’s shoulders drooped, her cheeks heating. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to doze off! I wasn’t bored, believe me! I was just-”

“Exhausted.”

Frankie closed her slacked jaw and shoved a small smile on her face. “Yeah. It won’t happen again. I’ll bring coffee next time.”

Faith pressed her lips together and sat down in the chair beside Frankie. The older woman gingerly took Frankie’s hand into her own. “Frankie, is everything alright at home?”

Frankie had half a mind to yank her hand away. She resisted, but she didn’t pull back from her confused gape. “What? Wow, um… that kinda came outta the blue. W-What would put that idea into your head?”

“Forgive my bluntness, but it isn’t hard to recognize a troubled soul. I’ve been around quite a few in my life.”

_‘Is it too late to stand up and walk out now?’_

“It’s clear to me that you aren’t getting enough sleep. And I cannot ignore that your wonderful volunteering around the congregation has played a part in that. Frankie, God doesn’t dictate faith through who has done the most work by week’s end. It’s how your good works and study – no matter the amount – guides your everyday life. It’s quality over quantity.”

“Okay, ah hah… wow, uh, yeah, this is not about that. No, I just have sleeping problems. I had them long before I joined the church. This isn’t-… I just need a cup of coffee every now and then, that’s all.”

“Does it involve Castiel?”

Frankie yanked her hand from Faith. “Excuse me?”

“I remember him visiting services the day we met. I don’t recall a genial face. I haven’t seen him since. I supposed I just want to make sure everything is okay at home.”

“Alright, look, that’s just Cas. He really isn’t known to have a friendly face. Most times its pretty blank. But he’s not what’s going on here. And… and I’m not enjoying this conversation, so I’m just gunna go. E-Excuse me.” Frankie lifted from her chair and grabbed her Bible case. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Frankie trudged down the road, her head hung low. She meandered around large puddles as she walked home.

_‘Geez, what was her problem? Just ‘cause I fall asleep during a Youth Group, that don’t give her the right to go all Dr. Phil on me! I’m perfectly fine!’_

She glanced at the building next to her as she passed it, her eyes landing on her ill features. _‘Okay, maybe I’m not_ perfectly _fine, but I’m not as bad as I could be. I’m doing baller compared to weeks ago. And she has the gall to say I’m not doing well. Pft.’_

She huffed and clutched her Bible tighter, forcing her head forward. Faith’s words about Castiel kept floating around in her head. Oh, she had the balls-

_‘No. No, no, not that. Uh… the nerve.’_

Faith had the nerve to bring up someone she knew nothing about. Cas was busy. He had stuff to do!

Her eyes fell.

Their little spat was a week ago. Cas had stayed true to his word. It had been a while since she laid eyes on that tan trench coat. What was more alarming was that some nights he wouldn’t show up to stay with her while she slept. She would wait up for him well past midnight until her exhaustion took over.

She refused to pray to him. If this was some kinda punishment for standing up for herself, then she wouldn’t give in that easily! If he wanted to throw a temper tantrum over their opposing beliefs, then he was a bigger baby than she realized.

She stifled a sigh and lifted her eyes down the road. They flicked to the right, spotting a figure sitting against a building. It seemed to be a homeless man slouched forward.

She spotted the long white beard.

“Oh my Lord! Jehoel!” She sprinted forward. Her feet skidded slightly when she reached the elderly-looking angel. “Oh my gosh, I’m so glad to see you! This is-… oh, man, this is great!”

The angel smiled at her and stood tall. She forgot the intense height difference and craned her neck to look him in the eye. “Why, dear Francine. It is lovely to speak with you once again.”

“Yeah, no kidding! I was waiting for the next time we’d see each other, and now- and now it’s _now_! You don’t know how relieved I am!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I have been impressed with your progress. You are committed, and your hard work has not gone unnoticed.”

“Awesome!” Frankie chuckled. She heaved a deep sigh, grinning up at him. “So, what next?”

Jehoel smiled and tilted his head. “What do you mean, my dear?”

“The next step. My next task. What does Heaven need me to do now?”

Jehoel blinked. “You’re doing it, child.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been doing it, and I finished it. I got faith. So, what’s next?”

Jehoel’s smile was large, but there was no joy in it. “You have finished nothing.”

Frankie’s brows yanked together. Her head recoiled in surprise. “I don’t- I don’t understand. You’re here. You haven’t been here since we met. You gotta have a message for me. From the angel that’s giving me directions?”

Jehoel nodded his head, wiggling his thin beard. “Yes. I do. He says that you have done an adequate job thus far, and instructs you to continue your studies.”

Frankie’s eyes flicked in between the angel’s. She softly shook her head. “But he said I needed faith. He told me to stop drinking and swearing – which I’ve done – and to get faith, and I did that. I believe in God, I know the stories, so I’m done. I’m ready to move on, he sees that, doesn’t he?” There wasn’t so much of a twitch in the angel’s face. “ _You_ see that, right? Don’t you see it?”

Jehoel’s smile slowly fell. Frankie didn’t love how intimidating the angel appeared without a grin on his face.

“You have done wonderful work in your studies. And I cannot deny that you harbor faith, but it is not in Heaven.”

Frankie blinked in shock. “What?” she gasped.

“You do have faith, Francine. You have grown it in the wrong places. Your next step is to put it in its rightful place. I pray for you and your friend’s sake that you manage that in a timely manner.”

Jehoel disappeared before her very eyes, slapping her face with a gust of wind. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring ahead at nothing.

“What the fuck…?”

\---___---___---___---___---

She stabbed the lock with her key and pushed the door open. Her eyes, hooded with discontent, pointed forward into her dark apartment. Her feet wanted to stay outside, and the rest of her would have allowed it. The chilly night breeze was more consoling than the warm, dismal air inside.

She forced herself through the door. She didn’t bother flicking on the lights. Her Bible slid out of her loosened fingers and fell on top of her work shoes. As the door loudly shut behind her, she moved forward in the dark, heading into her bedroom.

She fell face first onto her bed, bouncing slightly with a mouthful of blanket. Her muscles melted onto the mattress. It was hard for her to breathe with her mouth pressed against the sheets, but it was too great an effort to turn her head.

Weeks of cramming stories, lessons, names were wasted. The smiles that felt so genuine now seemed so forced. She questioned the feeling she had grown within each group and sermon. That feeling of acceptance, of non-judgement. That warmth. Had that been fake, too?

She cut off her tears with clenched eyes. She forced her head to turn as she puffed out a sigh. She opened her eyes to the empty space next to her. Her hand idly brushed over the creased sheets. She needed him now more than ever.

_‘Cas. I get you’re probably still mad at me, but… I really need you. Could we- could we talk? Please?’_

“Hello.”

Her eyes clamped shut once more with the tightening of her throat. He was still so dutifully loyal to his words, even when she wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t.

She tried to speak, but the lump in her throat choked her voice.

_‘Cas, I… I’m so sorry.’_

“For what reason?”

She swallowed thickly. _‘I may have gone… gone a little overboard with all the church stuff. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that.’_

It took a moment for Cas to respond. “May I ask why you aren’t speaking?”

_‘If I open my mouth, nothing will come out. This seems easier.’_

“Very well.” She felt the bed dip. She opened her damp eyes to his back. He was seated on the mattress looking away from her. “I accept your apology.”

_‘I don’t see why. I mean, you were right. I shouldn’t have bitten off more than I could chew. I just thought I had a bigger mouth.’_ Her back lifted with a deep sigh. _‘It didn’t even matter in the end. That’s the worst part.’_

“What do you mean?”

Frankie forced enough strength into her arm to push herself onto her side. _‘I talked to Jehoel again.’_ Cas’s head slightly turned. _‘My angel in shining feathers told me that my work was all for naught.’_

“How is that?”

_‘I dunno… Jehoel said that I didn’t have any faith in Heaven. And I- And I don’t understand that! I mean, I did everything he told me to! I-I went to church, I read the stories, learned the lessons- I know all the books of the Bible by song! I put so much work in… I did what I was supposed to… a-and I still failed. I just… I don’t- I don’t know where to go from here. Why don’t they just tell me?! Why don’t they just…’_

She didn’t squeeze her eyes this time. She let her tears fall onto the blanket.

_‘I wanted to do it right. I failed as a daughter, I failed as a sister, as a hunter… Now I’m failing to keep you safe. I wanted this to be different. But I couldn’t even garner faith right.’_

“You can’t force faith, Frankie. You can’t build it by simply attending rudimentary gatherings that all say the same thing. You went to these meetings so that others would tell you what to believe. You must ascertain that yourself.” Cas shifted his body on the bed. Frankie flicked her eyes up to his blank gaze. “What do you believe to be the truth?”

_‘I believe that if I don’t find some faith in Heaven soon, we’re doomed.’_

Oh man, they were going to come crashing into the apartment and take Cas as prisoner. They were going to torture him, or worse! God, if she didn’t impress them, she’d lose her best friend! It was enough to drive a girl into hyperventilation had she any breath to spare.

“Then we’ll keep trying.”

Her brows furrowed. She lifted onto her elbow, straightening her head. _‘We’ll? As in… both of us?’_

His eyes were on the melancholier side. “I may not agree with the optimism of the teachings, but I cannot escape the doubt that clouds my mind. I have tried. There is corruption in Heaven, the likes of which seems unassailable. Perhaps opening myself up to a different perspective will reinforce my idea of what exactly I am fighting for.”

His gaze focused on Frankie. “And I still don’t trust their supervision over you.” Frankie pulled a sheepish smile. “I suppose I should be more conscientious over my safety as well. You are right to assume they have eyes on me. And it is for that reason that I believe we are not dealing with Michael or Raphael.”

_‘Wait, what? How’d you come to that conclusion?’_

Cas’s gaze lifted to the window. He stared at the stars in the dark sky. “If it were simply the archangels, then I would already be dead.” Frankie shivered. “Either they are waiting for you to be disobedient, or you are working for someone else with a different agenda.”

Frankie chewed on her lips as Castiel wistfully looked out the window. As if he could feel the reverberating trepidation coming off her, the angel flicked his gaze down to Frankie. When their eyes connected, a faint smile, one of assuring nature, formed on Cas’s face.

“Whatever the reason, my departure was the wrong decision. I realize that if our suspicions are correct, the safest place for me to be is by your side.” His smile grew as Frankie’s cheeks split into a soft grin. “We’ll attend church services together. You will _slowly_ form the faith they desire of you, and I will find new perspective. We will protect each other. Is this acceptable?”

Frankie’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling with tears and gratitude. She reached for his hand, cupping hers around it. She squeezed once.


End file.
